


When One Door Closes

by isfpancake



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9723152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isfpancake/pseuds/isfpancake
Summary: After finally getting rejected by Adrien, a depressed Ladybug agrees to go on a date with Chat Noir. Fluff ensues.





	1. You're Serious?

“I know, I know,” Chat continued, strutting along the peak of a gabled rooftop “Sometimes I amaze even myself.”

            Ladybug grunted absentmindedly.

            Chat was acting like a clown and he knew it, but something was wrong and he didn’t know what else to do. He was bad at other people’s emotions. He thought for a minute, took a deep breath, and joined his partner on the ledge.

            “Alright, Bugaboo,” he addressed her. “What’s up?”

            She stared down at the street beneath them. “You don’t want to hear about it,” she mumbled.

            “If you want to talk about it, I want to hear about it,” he argued. Then he caught himself. “But you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

            She was so quiet that he thought she really didn’t want to. He tried not to be disappointed, but after two years of partnership he really wished she would open up more. Partially for his sake, but also for hers. He wanted a deeper relationship, even if it was just friendship. But talking about things was good, wasn’t it? Wouldn’t it help her to have someone to talk to?

            Although she probably already had someone to talk to. It just wasn’t him.

            Eventually, though, she did speak. It actually surprised him.

            “It’s not really a big deal,” she said finally.

            “If it’s bothering you,” Chat assured her, “it matters. Go on.”

“It’s a boy at school,” she started, matter-of-factly. “I’ve been crushing on him for a couple of years and I finally asked him out and he said no.” She sighed. “Apparently he has someone else. See? Not a big deal.”

“A couple of years is a big deal,” he argued. “I know the feeling.” Boy, did he know the feeling. “I’m sorry that guy’s such an idiot. He made a mistake.”

“I don’t know about that. I wonder a lot if I even really know him that well. I liked him since just a little bit after I met him, and I think maybe I just liked him because… I liked him, you know? Like that was how I interacted with him. And I never tried to get to know him deeper than that because I was busy crushing on him.”

She sighed again. “But I thought that liking him for so long meant something. Now I just feel dumb for spending two years pining over someone who never cared in the first place.”

“I’m not going to argue with your experience,” Chat said, “but I still think he’s an idiot. If I found out someone like you wanted me… Well. Most people wouldn’t make the same mistake he did.”

She smiled a little bit. “You think?”

“Come on!” he exclaimed, throwing up his arms. “You’re the Miraculous Ladybug! All the men in Paris and half the women are lining up to catch your eye!”

His heart froze when she stopped smiling.

“I’m not always the Miraculous Ladybug,” she mumbled.

He brought his hands back down, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and giving her a squeeze. “No,” he agreed, “but I bet you’re always wonderful.”

She leaned into him and chuckled a little bit. “I doubt it, but thank you anyway.”

They stayed like that for a minute, and as Adrien enjoyed the moment his thoughts wandered to Marinette. She had asked him out the other day. He was a little bit surprised, not because he didn’t know that she liked him—he wasn’t _that_ oblivious—but because he had never expected her to work up the guts. They weren’t particularly close and he figured she would just keep staring at him until someone else nice and pretty came along to distract her. He thought that this was good, though. Maybe now she could move on from her star-struck crush and find someone whom she really liked for who they were. And besides, he had Ladybug. He knew deep down that they were made for each other. His heart was hers entirely, and he was content to wait for her to come around.

He had tried to ask her out, but she never took him seriously. It was discouraging, but he always got over it. If it was meant to be, then it would be.

But maybe now… he could get started? It felt kind of dirty to make a move on her when she had just been rejected, but… She should know that she deserved the best. And even if that wasn’t him, he would try his hardest for her. And maybe the attention would cheer her up.

Eventually, Ladybug stood up and Chat followed suit.

“I should get back home,” she said. “It’s a school night, and it’s late, and I have a paper due tomorrow that I haven’t finished.” She had learned over the years to cut off her rambling before it got awkward.

“Is it alright if I follow you?” Chat asked.

Ladybug’s mask crinkled as she scrunched her eyebrows. “Why?”

“I’ve always heard that I should follow my dreams, so…”

She rolled her eyes, smiling slightly. “Do you ever stop?”

He pursed his lips and thought for a moment. “Haven’t yet,” he answered, “but I might if you ever say yes.”

She cocked her head to the side and stared at him. He grinned cheesily and tried not to squirm under her gaze. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not,” she finally said.

“Of course I’m being serious,” he said, frowning.

“But I just told you that I’ve been crushing on someone else for two years,” she argued.

Chat looked at his feet. He knew he should’ve shut up. “Sorry. I guess I thought maybe since you’d been turned down, you’d be willing to give me a shot. That was really insensitive. I really… Wow. Sorry. That was bad.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Ladybug interrupted him. “I mean, that is kind of bad. But I meant, why would you want to ask me out when you know I like someone else?”

“I was thinking that maybe I could distract you. When one door closes…”

“You’re serious?” she asked.

He met her eyes. “I always have been.”

She fought back a smile. “You would date me even though you know I don’t feel the same way?”

“Feelings can change,” he answered, waggling his eyebrows.

She laughed. “No commitment,” she clarified.

“You can back out whenever you want to,” he assured her. “Just give me a chance.”

She bit her lip and thought for a moment. “I know I’m going to regret this,” she said finally, “but sure. I’ll give you a shot.”

She tried not to laugh at the grin that stretched across his face, but then he was on top of her, squeezing her in an almost painful bear hug, and it was so cute she couldn’t stop herself. It was a happy laugh, and when she leaned into Chat Noir, she felt lighter than she had in a while. Maybe this would be a good thing.


	2. Chinese Food and Waltzes

This would absolutely not be a good thing.

            It took approximately forty seconds after detransforming for the anxiety to set in and for Marinette to realize that, in her disappointment and embarrassment, she had entered into one of the most short-sighted plans ever established. So many things could go terribly wrong.

1\. Chat may not like real-life Marinette. Sure, he was convinced she was an actual goddess all of the time, but he hadn’t even met her. He hadn’t even—wait, no, he had met her, back when they were fighting the Evillustrator. But that was only once, and he hadn’t seemed to treat her like anything special. He was certainly encouraging, and absolutely his own dorky self, but… it seemed like the show he had put on was about him. Like he had barely registered her.

            That didn’t bode well, actually. That didn’t bode well at all.

2\. She may not like real-life Chat. She only knew him as her goofy partner with the infinite puns and stunning eyes and admittedly nice butt. He was definitely a flirt, and she could see him being a playboy. He was so sweet and flirty and he had that _smile_. He probably got girls all the time. She didn’t know how to feel about that. And he seemed like he might be the type to be rude to waiters, and what would she do if he was? Knowing each other personally introduced a lot more space for friction. What if they actually didn’t like each other at all? They couldn’t just stop working together. This was why she had maintained their distance all this time.

3\. What if he really liked Marinette (unlikely) but she didn’t like him? He would be crushed.

4\. What if she really liked Chat, but he didn’t actually like her? It would be an affirmation of all of the things she already knew: that Ladybug was just a cover for a totally ordinary girl. Ladybug was beautiful and magical and Marinette was nothing special and probably talked too much. She couldn’t live up to her alter-ego.

            She really didn’t want that confirmation.

            She had started to pace her room anxiously, and the thought of even Chat not liking her was about to trigger some sort of breakdown. And then her phone buzzed.

            She had received an email.

            From sexy.chatnoir@quelquechose.com.

            _I thought we could talk on our fan accounts,_ he had sent, _since I tragi-cat-ly do not have your phone number._

 _First off,_ she responded, _tragi-cat-ly? thats a stretch, even for you. second, why does your handle sound like a stripper name?_

It took him approximately ten seconds to reply. _Kitty’s gotta bring home the big bucks somehow. Fighting crime doesn't put bread on the table._

            Marinette choked. _and now i have that mental image. thanks._

_You want your man to have a steady job, don’t you?_

She rolled her eyes. _And here i was worrying_ you _would be disappointed in real-life_ me _._

The next email took longer to arrive. _You could never disappoint me. Masks don’t make people. It’s what’s on the inside that counts. And your insides are beautiful._

 _That was so cheesy you could dip pretzels in it and sell it on a street corner._ But she was smiling.

            They chatted until Marinette fell asleep, warm and at peace.

* * *

 

Marinette had just gotten back from running deliveries on Saturday when she checked her phone to find a new message.

            _You purr-obably aren’t going to let me facetime you, are you?_

She smiled. _Not yet._ Still, she was starting to feel a little bit confident. It wasn’t like Ladybug and Marinette were different people. Being the Miraculous Ladybug had helped Marinette to grow as Marinette. Their actions reflected each other. Being brave Ladybug helped Marinette to be brave herself, and Marinette’s natural compassion motivated Ladybug. She wasn’t ready to reveal herself, but she was getting there.

            _I can be patient [winking cat emoji]. Are you free tonight?_

_I can be._

_Excellent. Meet me at the top of the Eiffel at eight. Don’t eat dinner._

_I’ll clear my schedule._

_LB?_

_Whats up?_

_Don’t fur-get to miss me [insert winking cat emoji]._

            Marinette laughed. As if.

            But, strangely enough, she did.

* * *

 

            Adrien was working that afternoon, but it was hard to focus. He felt like a modelling robot, going through well-practiced motions while his brain was somewhere else. He already had a plan for his date with Ladybug, but he was so excited he couldn’t think about anything else.

            The photographer snapped his fingers, and Adrien quickly bit back his grin. Focus.

            The shoot took forever, and by the time it was finally over, Adrien was left with two hours to prepare for his date and to wait.

            He arrived at the tower half an hour early. Onlookers saw him scamper up near the top, back down to the bottom, back up, back down, and back up a third time. It was now 7:45. He spent his remaining fifteen minutes attempting to look nonchalant.

            Ladybug arrived precisely at eight o’clock, and Chat greeted her with his model smile and an understated but expensive and beautifully fragrant bouquet.

            She smiled widely, took the flowers from his hands, and leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

            “I missed you,” she told him softly.

            Was it the light, or did his cheeks turn pink?

            Blushing or not, his voice came out as a purr. “I’m glad.” And then, sincerely, “I missed you, too.”

            Chat could swear he had never felt so warm inside. After a few seconds of simply smiling at her like an idiot, he caught himself and bowed deeply. “Now,” he told her, “if you’ll follow me right this way, we may commence with our dinner.”

            Three small coolers sat in a row. One had contained Ladybug’s bouquet, one was now opened to reveal several take-out cartons of Chinese food, and one remained closed. On top of the last cooler sat a small speaker which began softly playing _Claire de Lune_ when Chat connected it to his phone.

            “I hope Chinese is okay,” he said as they sat at the edge of the platform, dangling their feet over Paris.

            “Of course!” Ladybug exclaimed. “You know, my mom is Chinese.”

            “That’s so cool! I bet you eat this stuff all the time then.”

            “Not really. Chinese take-out isn’t much like real Chinese food.”

            Chat grimaced. “I know I should have gotten pizza,” he mumbled.

            Ladybug’s eyes widened. “That’s not what I meant! I meant that I don’t get food like this very often! I like it!”

            Chat side-eyed her, still frowning. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll get pizza next time.”

            “Chat Noir,” Ladybug said seriously, looking straight at him. “I really like take-out Chinese food and I’m glad that you brought it because I never get to eat it.” To prove her point, she took a large bite of orange chicken while maintaining eye contact.

            He couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll believe you,” he conceded, “but only because I know for a fact that you’re a terrible liar.”

            “I am not!” Ladybug cried. “I am a great liar!”

            “Right. Name one time you’ve fooled me on anything, my Lady.”

            “Just now,” she sniffed. “My mom isn’t actually Chinese.”

            “You’re not even being serious and you still can’t hold a poker face,” Chat noted gleefully. “That’s so cute!”

            “Don’t make fun of me,” Ladybug pouted, glaring at the skyline.

            “Sweetheart,” Chat gasped with exaggerated indignation. “I could never!”

            Marinette hated that she blushed, which only made her blush deeper. Chat had stopped laughing. When she looked over at him, he was looking back at her very seriously, lips parted slightly, a strange look in his eyes. She cocked her head to the side, and he smiled slowly.

            “Thank you,” he whispered.

            She pursed her lips. “For what?”

            “For giving me a shot. I’m really happy right now.”

            His green eyes were so honest, and his voice was so sincere, Ladybug could feel a little piece of her heart melt.

            “Thank you for staying by me all this time,” Ladybug responded. “You earned it.”

            “Are you finished eating?” Chat asked suddenly. “Because if we don’t move onto the ice cream, I may do something inappropriate.”

            “I’ve only gotten through three bites, Chat,” she laughed. “Now why don’t you behave like a good little housecat and tell me something about yourself.”

            “Um… I fence.”

            “Really? That’s so cool!” And then her smile slipped. Adrien fenced. And then she felt horrible for thinking about Adrien on her date with Chat Noir.

            “LB? Are you okay?” he asked, concerned.

            “I’m fine!” she exclaimed. “I just… thought of something. But it’s not important.”

            He cocked his head. “If you say so… Tell me something about yourself.”

            “Um… I’m really into fashion. I want to be a designer.”

            That was… ironic. So did Marinette. But still, the thought made him feel warm. He was a model and she was a designer. How perfect was that?

            They chatted on for a good while, until most of the Chinese food was gone and Chat opened the third cooler to get out the ice cream. “I didn’t know what you like,” he explained, “so I just guessed on three. So are you a chocolate person, a strawberry person, or a cookies ‘n’ cream person?”

             “All three are good, but… I think I’m feeling strawberry tonight.”

            “Strawberry it shall be, then.” And then he froze.

            “Is everything okay?” Ladybug asked, coming over.

            “Yeah, I just…” He grimaced. “I forgot spoons.”

            Ladybug almost tried not to laugh, but then gave up. “Very smooth, Chat. Very smooth.”

            “Hey,” he fielded, “cats don’t need spoons, so it didn’t occur to me.”

            “Chat Noir, I would bet money that I can eat this faster with my chopsticks than you can lapping it up. You realize you’re not really a cat, don’t you?”

            He frowned. “You think so? But I was really feline the connection between us just now.”

            Ladybug groaned. “I thought you said you would stop if I said yes,” she complained.

            “Come on,” Chat grinned. “You know you like them.”

            “Even if I did, I wouldn’t say so.”

            “I’m taking that as an admission that you find them sexy. Now let’s see if ice cream is better with chopsticks than it is with spoons.”

            Neither would say that it was better, although it was certainly messier—especially for Chat. Halfway through their dessert, a waltz started playing from the speaker and Chat quickly set aside his ice cream and jumped to his feet.

            “My Lady,” he said smoothly, holding out his hand to help Ladybug stand, “may I have this dance?”

            She laughed. “I don’t dance, Chat.”

            “It’s a waltz,” he whined. “They’re easy. I’ll teach you.”

            He was so corny, so predictable, and so sweet that Marinette couldn’t say no. “Fine,” she conceded, “but if I step on your toes, it’s your own fault.”

            “My toes would be honored,” Chat assured her. “Now come on. Your hands go here, and mine go right here. No, no, you have to stand closer—it’s not me, it’s the dance!”

            When it came to swinging between buildings, her miraculous suit compensated for Marinette’s clumsiness. When it came to dancing, however, it apparently did not. It didn’t help that, in addition to his hand resting on her hip, gently guiding her through the motions, her own hand held his shoulder. She hadn’t expected this to feel so intimate, but the strict distance Chat maintained between them felt like the taught space between two magnets. No matter how many times she stepped on his feet, he kept a steady count going, softly intoning “back, right, forward, back, left, forward,” never losing patience, not even laughing at her. She was sure she was blushing as dark as her suit, and when the song ended, she felt breathless as they held their position. Lips parted, they were too close for her to comfortably meet his eyes, so she stared at the bell hanging at the base of his neck instead. Pulling her left hand back from his shoulder, she used it to flick the bell. It jingled just slightly and his shoulders lost their perfect posture as he laughed.

            He wondered if he should mention that the bell acted as a zipper pull, but decided against it. Her reaction would be amusing, but he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

            “It’s another waltz,” Ladybug noticed.

            “They’re, um… they’re all waltzes after this,” Chat admitted. “In case you really enjoyed dancing.”

            “Wait. Did you make this playlist?”

            “Uh, yeah. Why?”

            “I never pegged you as a classical guy,” she noted.

            “I don’t know if I’d say I’m a ‘classical guy,’” Chat responded. “I just have an appreciation for some culture now and then. And, if we’re being technical, Debussy isn’t really classical.”

            “Well isn’t someone the expert,” Ladybug teased.

            “Someone has to be,” he defended himself. “Besides, a gentleman should know something about music.”

            “You? A gentleman?” Ladybug scoffed jokingly. “Since when?”

            “When have I ever been anything less?”

            “You’re a total flirt!”

            Chat looked taken back. “I am not!” he exclaimed.

            “You flirt with me all the time!”

            “So? That’s you. I don’t do that with anyone else.”

            Marinette had not been expecting that. “Seriously?” she asked.

            “Of course.”

            “Oh.” She pursed her lips. It occurred to her that maybe she didn’t know as much about Chat Noir as she had thought. The thought disconcerted her in a deep way, as if someone had asked her a question when she wasn’t paying attention and for some reason, her answer was very, very important. “Chat?”

            “Yes, my Lady?”

            “Can we dance again?”

            He smiled and brought her back into his distant embrace. Her feet began to fall into rhythm as she mulled over how this information affected her view of Chat Noir and what these warm and slightly anxious feelings meant.

            Chat Noir, for his part, left Ladybug to her thoughts. He himself was a little bit put off. Did she really think he was a flirt? He knew she didn’t know all that much about him, but… Did he really come off that way?

            Well, maybe now was the time to set any misconceptions straight. He had thought that now, holding his dream woman and teaching her to dance atop one of the most spectacular structures in the world, he would feel totally satisfied, but something felt… off. He didn’t like it.

            The waltz ended, and neither of the superheroes spoke.

            “Chat?” Ladybug said finally.

            “Hm?” He met her eyes, dragged out of his own thoughts.

            “Is it okay if… if I meet you?”

            He bunched his eyebrows, not totally understanding. “Like… real life?”

            “Yeah. I think I’m ready.”

            The weird feeling eased back to an ignored corner of his mind. This was exactly what he had been waiting for! A grin slipped back the corners of his mouth. “Yeah?” was all he said.

            She shoved him. “Say something!” she demanded.

            He shook himself. “Yeah!” he exclaimed. Then coughed, reigning in his grin. “I mean, yes, Ladybug. Yes, I would love to meet you in real life. We could… right now? We could just… detransform…” But even as he was saying it, it felt wrong. He needed to be ready, and he wasn’t.

            Ladybug wasn’t either. “I was thinking… Monday, maybe. Monday afternoon? There’s a café. We could meet there.”

            “Just email me the address and the time, and I’ll be there,” he promised.

            Marinette nodded once, as if affirming the date for herself. “Cool,” she said simply.

            And then she dropped the waltz pose completely, wrapping her arms tightly around Chat and resting her face against his neck.

            He froze at first, surprised, but then slowly slid his hands up and down her back. He smiled when she sighed into him. Yes, this definitely felt right.

            Later, as they got ready for bed after returning home, a bubbly excitement fizzed up inside of both of them, Adrien in his mansion and Marinette in her loft.

            It was finally time.


	3. Cosmic Jokes and Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally, this was not going to be an angsty fic. It was going to be sweet and happy and they would see each other in real life and realize that everything made sense and they were made for each other. In the end, though, I decided not to do that.  
> You get angst.  
> Enjoy!

Adrien strolled into the café five minutes early, trying his best to look cool but bursting at the seams with excitement. After two years, Ladybug was finally revealing herself to him. He should have been nervous, but he couldn’t keep himself from grinning.

            And then he saw Marinette.

            She was dressed differently than normal, in a simple, flowy red dress and with her hair down. It was longer than he had expected it to be. Her eyes widened when she saw him and he felt a little bit bad that he made her feel uncomfortable. It was for the better, though.

            “Hey,” he greeted her. “You look nice.”

            She blushed and bit her lip. “Thanks,” she mumbled. “I’m… um… I have a date.” She avoided his eyes.

            Well, that was fast. Although, it did go to show that she wasn’t _that_ serious about him if she had already moved on. “Great,” he said, because he wasn’t sure what else to say. “I’ll leave you to that.” Cue finger guns.

            She nodded, staring at the tiled floor. He walked back next to the door and glanced around, but he couldn’t see anyone who seemed to be _her_. He checked his phone, but didn’t see any notifications. He opened his email, closed it, and repeated the process until ten after two. Finally, he sent her a message: _Are you here yet? I don’t think I see you._

            She responded quickly. _Yeah, I’m here. I don’t see you either._

 _What are you wearing?_ he asked.

            _A red dress._

_And my hair’s down._

He looked around, but the only red dress he saw was Marinette’s.

            And her hair was down.

            He watched her intently, but all she did was check her phone every three seconds.

            _Marinette?_ he sent, watching her. He saw her eyes widen as she glanced around anxiously, and then made eye contact. He walked over and stood in front of her.

Neither of them knew how to respond.

            Marinette looked frozen over. After a moment, her cheeks grew pink as hurt fogged over her eyes, and she narrowed them at him. “‘I bet you’re wonderful all the time,’ huh?” Her voice was low as she shot his words back at him “What kind of garbage line was that, anyway?” She scoffed and looked away from him.  “And I fell for it! What the heck, Adrien? And I… I even… And you just listened to me! You just _listened_ to me _cry_ over you!” Of all the words in her head, everything she wanted to say, she didn’t want to do any of it here. Not dressed up, certainly not dressed up for _him_ , not in public. She looked at the EXIT sign over the doorway behind him, at the window to his left, anywhere but his face. Panic was setting in next to her anger. She was about to start crying and she didn’t want him to see it. Again. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she ground out, forcing herself not to stutter, before shoving around him and stalking out of the restaurant.

            Adrien stood where she had left him, shell-shocked.

            She was right. This had to be some cosmic joke. Adrien took a deep breath, all of the pieces slipping into place in his head. For two years, he had ignored the ditzy classmate crushing on him, while he pined over his superhero partner in much the same way, and she ignored him because she was in love with the fashion model who sat in front of her in class.

            He understood, but he was struggling to react. What was he supposed to feel? Sorry? He wasn’t. Relieved? Certainly not that. Ashamed? A little, actually.

            He had been unfair to Ladybug… to Marinette. Not classmate Marinette, but… Yeah, classmate Marinette. They were the same person.

            He had put Ladybug on this pedestal and assumed that his admiration for her was special because he wasn’t just a fan, he was her partner. He _knew_ her. But he didn’t, really. He had expected the real Ladybug to be something like Joan of Arc or Athena or Cleopatra. He had expected some sort of goddess, and for two years he had rejected her because she wasn’t that.

            So what if Marinette was barely different from his other fans? She was a person. She was compassionate and fiery, respectable and talented and giving. She wasn’t wonderful all the time. She was still a bit air-headed, she was hasty, and she didn’t listen very well. She could be unforgiving and self-righteous. But she was humble enough to admit when she was wrong and try to make it right.

            And she was brave enough to ask him out, and get rejected, and talk about it to her friend, who assumed that he would always, always stand by her, always accept her.

            He was slightly comforted by the fact that Marinette was at least as embarrassed as he was, but she hadn’t been so arrogant. They were in the same boat, but he had rejected her where she had accepted him.

            He had written her off, and she had given him a chance.

            He really was an idiot.

* * *

She wasn’t responding to his emails.

            Or text messages.

            Or phone calls.

            He went to her house, but her parents informed him that she wasn’t home.

            He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Marinette had disappeared and probably—no, no, _definitely_ hated his guts. He wanted to talk to her about it, but that wasn’t an option right now, and he couldn’t talk to anyone else about it, either.

            He would have to leave it for now. In the meantime…

            He texted Nino.

            _You home?_

_Where else would I be on a Monday afternoon?_

_I’m picking you up in an hour. Don’t ask questions._

_You good bro?_

_I said not to ask questions._

* * *

 

 Marinette was barely inside Alya’s bedroom before she broke down.

            “Whoa, girl. What happened?”

            Marinette just shook her head, vigorously, sobbing. Alya took her by the shoulders and guided her to the bed, sitting her down before sitting next to her.

            “Is this about Adrien?”

            Marinette nodded. Of course it was. Everything was about Adrien.

            But it wasn’t Adrien’s fault. She would be disappointed to find out she was Ladybug, too. She was just hurt because she thought that maybe Chat Noir could actually see value in Marinette. But Chat Noir had to be Adrien, and Adrien already knew that Marinette wasn’t good enough.

            “I’ll kill him,” Alya seethed. “Come on. We’re egging the mansion.”

            Marinette shook her head, trying to calm down. “It’s not his fault,” she got out. “It’s me.”

            Hearing that only made Alya angrier. “It is _not_ you, Marinette. _You_ are wonderful, and sweet, and soft, and _freaking beautiful_ , and strong, and he would be _lucky_ to have you. What, you think he knows you better than I do? Just because he thinks he’s too good for a ‘civilian?’”

            “That’s not _it_ , Alya. I’m just… me.”

            “So? Who else are you supposed to be?”

            Who else indeed? Marinette pulled up her knees and wrapped herself into a ball, crying again. It wasn’t even her fault. She couldn’t do anything about it. She was destined to not be good enough.

            Suddenly, it sucked to be Ladybug. Because no one cared if anyone else was just themselves. Before the Miraculous Ladybug, Marinette was Marinette Dupain-Cheng and that was okay. She was timid and clumsy and nothing special, but no one else was particularly special, either. But now she was faced down with the obligation to be something _better_ , and she simply wasn’t that something.

Adrien didn’t even have to worry about that. When he wasn’t Chat Noir, he was Adrien Agreste, son of Gabriel Agreste, model and genius. Marinette could save Paris as many times as she wanted, but at the end of the day she was the baker’s daughter, a below-average student who liked fashion and video games.

No wonder he was disappointed.

            “Screw Adrien,” Alya declared. “He’s just a pretty boy with his daddy’s money.”

            “Alya, please don’t talk about him like that.” Even if he had hurt her, Adrien was still her partner. Angry or not, she didn’t want anyone talking bad about him.

            “Whatever. By tomorrow, no one will be looking at him, anyway.”

* * *

 

Adrien wasn’t usually a believer in retail therapy, but he had been looking for an excuse to splurge on this for a while. If he was going to be miserable, he might as well be miserable and materialistic.

“Bro,” Nino whispered, staring at her appreciatively.

Shoving his thoughts of Ladybug to the back of his mind, Adrien grinned seductively. “They say what a man really needs is a good woman. I’m naming her Belle.”

“I approve. Where’s she taking us?”

            “Let’s find out.”

            Adrien and Nino spent an hour speeding through Paris on the sleek silver Voxan Charade before deciding to blow their school night in an arcade.

            As Adrien methodically beat Nino at everything except for that dumb Stomp dance machine (“It’s not even real dancing!” “Don’t be a sore loser, dude”), his mind tried to fit Marinette’s face beneath Ladybug’s mask. Teaching her to waltz, purifying akumas, soothing victims, the moment they met and she wrapped him up with her hanging from that streetlight—it all fit. The only difference was that Ladybug could speak around him.

            Actually, even Ladybug tripped up around Adrien. That made sense now.

            But she barely even knew Adrien! He was more himself as Chat Noir than he was as Adrien Agreste, and she had never been interested in that side of him.

            Which was exactly the reason he had turned down Marinette.

            Nino caught him glaring at the screen on which they were shooting down zombies in some warehouse somewhere.

            “Calm down, bro. They’re not real.”

            “Sorry,” Adrien mumbled. “I got distracted.”

* * *

 

            “I’m not sure about this, Alya.”

            “It’s either this, or I cut all of it off right now.”

            “Alya!”

            “Come on, Mar! It’ll be so pretty!”

            “But… I’ve never bleached it before.”

            “Good, that means this won’t ruin it. Now put this towel around your shoulders before we get this on your shirt. Prepare to behold the power of blorange.”

* * *

 

            The Gorilla tailed Adrien to the school, but Adrien didn’t mind as long as he was allowed to take his new bike. He garnered a lot of stares in the school parking lot, and Chloe especially was ecstatic.

            “Adrikins! OMG! You’ll _have_ to take me for a ride later.”

            He smiled at her. “Of course, Chloe.”

            She looped her arm through his and they walked like that to the classroom, Sabrina following quietly behind them as Chloe kept the conversation going without any feedback from Adrien. It was a talent, really.

            Marinette wasn’t in the classroom, but Alya was, and there wasn’t half of a second that she spent not glaring at Adrien. He tried to look nonchalant, but it was hard. He took his seat next to Nino without saying a word.

            When Marinette finally came into the classroom precisely thirty seconds before the bell rang, Adrien wasn’t the only one staring, as evidenced by Kim’s loud whistling from the back of the classroom. Adrien had barely recognized her.

            In addition to her newly peachy-toned hair (he had heard the word “blorange” passed around between some of his stylists and recognized the hue), in addition to her hair being _down_ , in addition to the short black T-shirt dress that definitely did not meet the dress code, her lips were painted a bright red that brought her whole face to life. Reports say that men stare for 1.3 seconds longer at red lips than pink, but Adrien was far past the average seven seconds when Marinette walked past his desk, careful to avoid looking at him.

            He didn’t notice his eyes following her until she walked around him and he caught more of her legs than he had been prepared to see. He snapped his gaze to the front of the classroom, where Ms. Mendeleiev was setting up her desk. When he glanced behind him, Marinette’s lips were pressed together and her cheeks were pink. Adrien couldn’t tell if she was angry or uncomfortable or both.

            Alya was staring at her appreciatively until she caught Adrien’s eyes and glared at him until he looked away.

            Point taken.

* * *

 

            Alya had styled Marinette that morning (Marinette could have coordinated the look but would never have worn it herself), but Marinette had spent several minutes staring in the bathroom mirror at school trying to decide if she could actually walk into the classroom like this.

"I don't see how dyeing my hair is going to help with my problems," Marinette had pouted the night before.

"It might help or it might not," Alya had answered, "but it will make you feel better, and I think that's more important right now."

In the end, she had gone along with Alya's plan, and although the attention made her uncomfortable, it was also empowering in a way.

            Come lunch, Marinette had adjusted to feeling so conspicuous and was prepared to conspicuously ignore Adrien. As it turned out, this would be the easiest thing she had to do all day.

            Adrien turned around right as the bell rang.

            “Marinette,” he started, “I really need to talk to—”

            “Oh my gosh!” Rose squealed. “I love your hair! It looks so dreamy!” Over the years, Rose had discovered a few synonyms for ‘romantic’ and overused every one of them. It was cute.

            “You look awesome,” Juleka agreed. She had discovered no synonyms for awesome, but it would have felt weird if she had.

            Marinette beamed at them. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “I was really nervous about it.”

            “It looks great,” Alix assured her. “Super cool.”

            “Super cool,” Mylene agreed.

            “Hey, Mar,” Kim called from behind the group of girls. “You joining for lunch today?” Even though Marinette and Alya went out with Kim’s group for lunch often enough already, the invitation felt special today. Was this the power of blorange?

            “Yeah,” Alya called back, “we’re coming.”

            Marinette, Alya, and Alix followed Kim, Max, and Nathaniel out the door, leaving Adrien and Nino to watch them leave. Marinette had wanted to eat with the girls, but Alya had stressed the importance of going out with the guys today. She made a mental note to invite the girls out to lunch tomorrow.

* * *

 

            Adrien tried to catch Marinette after class, but Chloe caught him first, demanding a ride back to the hotel. He knew trying to get away was a losing battle, and getting brushed off by Marinette was starting to get irritating, anyway. So he drove Chloe around the area for about twenty minutes before dropping her off at the hotel and going home. He plowed through the homework he hadn’t touched the night before, went down to the kitchen for a quiet dinner, and waited for night to fall.

            Once it did, he transformed into Chat Noir and made his way across the area to Marinette’s house, landing on her balcony.

            It was time to work this out.

            He braced himself and knocked on the door.


	4. Insecurities and Sleepovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, this was going to go down a very different route than it did. But I think the valuable thing about characters is that they mirror real people, and so it’s important to be realistic about emotions. At this point, a reveal like that would have hurt, and the people involved would have probably reacted emotionally, rather than rationally (especially Marinette tbh). With the dialogue in this chapter, I hope I was able to create a satisfying resolution, and I hope that you’ve enjoyed this work!

 “Did you have fun with Alya?” Marinette’s mom asked, not looking up from her activities on the other side of the bakery.

            “Yeah!” Marinette replied with fake enthusiasm. She wanted to talk to her parents, but not right now. She was also hoping to get to her room before her mom saw her hair.

            “I want you to be at dinner tonight,” Sabine continued.

            Marinette was almost out of the bakery and into the living area. “Sure thing, mom!”

            “Love you, sweetie!”

            “Love you too!” And safe! She hurried up to her room and changed into leggings and an oversized t-shirt, pulling her hair into its customary pigtails before sitting down at her desk, trying to focus on the homework she had gotten behind on. Unfortunately, all she could think about was Chat/Adrien and how ridiculous the whole situation was. She spends two years staring at the back of this boy’s head, and then every week runs around Paris bantering with him and fighting weirdo akumas. While she’s stuttering around sweet, even-tempered Adrien, he’s flirting with Paris’s favorite superhero.

            It was just… Chat Noir and Adrien were so _different_. But maybe Adrien was actually his mask? And she was in love with it, just like everybody else.

            It hit home when she thought about their date. Chat Noir had been so much sweeter than she expected, but still 100% Chat Noir. That was Adrien.

            She had gone on a date with Adrien Agreste.

            And he had taught her to waltz.

            Adrien Agreste had forgotten to bring spoons for ice cream.

            Adrien Agreste made _cat puns_.

            It was just too weird. The problem wasn’t Chat Noir being a goofball. It was that…. She was just so surprised.

            And also that he had rejected her. That was also part of it.

            She groaned. She had embarrassed herself in front of him _so many times_ … She couldn’t even look at him. She wasn’t avoiding him just to make him uncomfortable—she couldn’t talk to him. After two years of embarrassing herself in front of Adrien and then becoming such good friends with _Adrien_ and finding out he didn’t even like her in the real world… How was she supposed to respond to that? What was she supposed to do? All that she felt was hurt and humiliated.

            It was easier to just ignore him.

* * *

 

            By the time her mom called her downstairs for dinner, Marinette had almost finished her literature homework.

            One class out of five.

            She took a deep breath and looked in the mirror. Alya wasn’t wrong about the color; it was flattering and even though she never would have chosen it for herself, it was very Marinette. She love it.

            She had the feeling that her parents might not.

            The table was quiet for a few minutes before Tom finally made his decision. “I don’t hate it,” he announced.

            “Really?” Marinette squeaked, terribly self-conscious and not ready yet to relax.

            “You’ll be going to college soon, and they’ll probably have a stricter dress code there. You should have fun while you can. At least it’s not neon.”

            “OhmygoshDaddythankyou!!” she exclaimed in one breath. Tom just laughed.

            Sabine was less enthusiastic. “You’re almost eighteen,” she said. “If this is the most rebellious thing you’re going to throw at us, I won’t complain. Besides, pink has always been a lovely color on you.”

            Marinette beamed. “Thank you so much! I was so worried.”

            Her mother laughed. “You should have fun,” she said simply, agreeing with her husband. “Now let’s eat.”

* * *

 

            Peaceful family dinners were a thing Marinette was grateful for. Parents who always accepted her and supported her were another. After spending some time with them, she had calmed down considerably. Still, she didn’t feel like talking to Chat/Adrien again yet. It was still too weird. Sitting down at her desk, she selected a soft playlist from Spotify to keep her nerves under control while she got back to her homework.

            It wasn’t long before she heard a knock on her balcony door.

            She sighed. “Go away, Chat,” she called. “I want to be alone right now.”

            “I need to talk to you,” he called back. He sounded tired.

            _Whatever_ , she thought to herself. _It has to happen sometime._

            She climbed up to her bed and tried to pretend that the pounding of her heart was from her irritation and not from her anxiety over seeing the boy she had been in love with for two years who was also her long-time partner and friend. She also tried to pretend that the pricking at her eyes was a result of staring at her computer all afternoon.

            She opened the door and climbed into the dusk.

            “What’s up?” she asked simply.

            Chat gave her a level stare. “What’s up?” he repeated.

            “What’s up?” she asked again, a slight quiver in her voice as she squirmed under his gaze.

            “We need to talk about this. I need to talk to you about this.”

            “What’s there to talk about?” She was tried sound flippant, but her voice shook. “I’m the Miraculous Ladybug. The annoying girl from your class is the same superhero you thought you were in love with. I’m sorry, Chat. I can’t help that.”

            She couldn’t meet his eyes, and he was looking at her like she was speaking another language. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

            “What do you think I’m talking about?” And resume the crying. She tried to blink it back. “Come on, Adrien. ‘All the men and half the women of Paris are lining up to date Ladybug,’ but not even Chat Noir wants Marinette. I understand. I know that I’m a disappointment. But it’s disappointing for me, too. I thought… I thought you might be different, but you’re not. Even now, right now, you aren’t here for Marinette, are you? You’re here for Ladybug. And I understand, okay? But… I don’t want to deal with that right now. Just go away, Chat. Please.”

            Adrien felt sick seeing her trying not to cry. He… was. He _was_ here for Ladybug, but not for Ladybug instead of Marinette. It was just that now, when he saw Marinette, he saw Ladybug. Was that wrong? They were the same person, after all. He was sure the only reason he hadn’t seen it earlier was because he hadn’t wanted to. He had assumed he didn’t know real-life Ladybug, and so any resemblance was a matter of coincidence. But if Marinette was Ladybug, then he loved Marinette because they were the _same person._

            He sat down and dropped his head. Marinette sat down as well, looking off to the side. “I don’t know how to explain how badly I screwed up,” he sighed. “But you should know it was never anything against Marinette. I just couldn’t see you because I was so focused on Ladybug… On _you_. I’m not after Ladybug in spite of you being Marinette. It’s not like you’re two different people and I can only love one of you. I don’t accept Marinette because she’s a part of Ladybug. I love you. I love all of you. It’s just that I was only looking at part of you and didn’t see that Marinette is every bit as much Ladybug as Ladybug is Marinette. I’m sorry.”

            Marinette was silent. He loved her. He had said that he loved her! She should have been thrilled. And she had to admit, it felt nice. It really did. But it didn’t take care of everything. She still felt like everything inside of her was burning and shaking. She was a house on fire, and his confession was a wash of water over the flames, but not enough to put them out.

Finally, she whispered, “You didn’t screw up. We’re hardly even friends in real life and I could barely get out a sentence around you, anyway. I would have turned me down, too. I’m just so embarrassed. Even if you don’t see it that way, I’ve been humiliating myself in front of you for _two years_ and then I find out that it’s… you. And you respected me, and then I’m just me.  I can’t expect you to not look at me differently. I… don’t believe that you _can_ not look at me differently. And that makes it hard for me to look at you at all.”

            “Marinette,” he said firmly. “I want you to look at me.” Hesitantly, she did. He looked more serious than she had seen him in a very long time. “Don’t you think I’m struggling with that, too?” he asked. “I spend all this time worrying that you won’t like me in the real world, and then… I find out you’re _you_ , and you _do_ like me, but the me that you like is barely even me! And I don’t even know if I want you to see me differently or not. I feel like you’re the only one who really knows me, and now you like all these things that aren’t me. But I’m still _here_ , aren’t I? Because I need to know. Because you are so important to me that I can’t just ‘let it be.’ I can’t just put it off until I feel better. So please just tell me that you are going to listen to me, and that even if what’s in front of us isn’t what we had wanted, it’s what we got and we’re going to deal with it. Just tell me that whether I’m Adrien Agreste or whether I’m Chat Noir…” He swallowed. “Just tell me that no matter who I am, you’re going to stay with me.”

            It was Marinette’s turn to stare. She hadn’t expected any of what he had just said. He was serious. The fire eating up at her began to go down as she realized that he was at least as anxious as she was, about more than facing her post-reveal. But… how did her knowing that he was Adrien Agreste hurt him at all? “What do you mean, is barely even you?”

            Adrien sighed. “Adrien Agreste is a polite pretty-boy whose only personality traits are ‘charming’ and ‘impressive.’ Do you think that’s what I want you to like about me?”

            When Marinette didn’t respond, Adrien started to wonder if he should have kept that to himself. Of course he felt that way, but he’d never said it before and when he did say it, it sounded really… wrong. Was that really what he thought of himself?

            “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

            “Is that how you really feel?” she interrupted him softly, all of the previous hurt and ferocity gone from her eyes. “Adrien, that’s not… I mean, yeah, you’re charming and you’re impressive, that’s true. But I don’t like you because you’re a model and you get straight A’s and you fence. That’s dumb. You’re sweet. Even though I know you’ve never been interested in me, you’ve always encouraged me. Even when you’re being insincere, there’s something sincere about it. Yeah, Public Figure Adrien Agreste may be really toned down, but it’s not like you’re not yourself. Do you remember, that day right after we met, when it was raining and you gave me your umbrella?”

            “Of course I remember.”

            “That was when I fell in love with you. Not because you’re a model, not because you’re smart, but because you were so _kind_. I’ve played that scene through my head hundreds of times, Adrien. Nothing in Chat Noir doesn’t fit you. The problem isn’t that I don’t love both of you. Neither of you are anything like a problem. And I never want to hear you say anything so self-depreciating again.”

            She watched as the hard, determined expression he wore slowly melted, as his mouth tensed to hold back the emotion that was breaking through, as his eyebrows came together and his gaze became a little bit desperate, as his vulnerability pushed its way out and she realized that maybe Adrien was always wearing a mask to cover up something very dark that he shouldn’t have to handle alone. The feeling she had gotten on their date took more ground in her mind: Chat Noir… Adrien was very serious about her. That information calmed her, gave her a comfort that enabled her to comfort him in turn.

            “Adrien,” she whispered, “I love you for everything that makes you Adrien Agreste and for everything that makes you Chat Noir. I’m not going to leave you. I could never leave you.” The certainty in her voice left no room for him to doubt her. As the darkness around them deepened, there was a brightness growing between them.

* * *

 

Adrien’s phone rang, waking them both up. He glanced at the screen.

            Nathalie.

            He answered. “What’s up?” he asked groggily. Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed with sleepiness and confusion.

            “I’m at a friend’s house,” he said. “Sorry, I forgot to mention it since father’s gone this week…Uh, let me ask.” He put his hand over the receiver. “Is it… um… Is it alright if I stay over? I swear I won’t do anything! I just don’t really feel like going home.”

            His cheeks were pink with embarrassment and Marinette couldn’t help giggling. He was so cute when he was nervous.

            “Of course you stay, Kitty Cat.” And then she realized what was happening and started to blush, herself.

            A grin split across his face and shone out through his eyes. “Thank you.” And then, to his phone: “Yeah, I’m staying tonight… Yeah, I remember… I’ll get plenty of rest, don’t worry… I would appreciate that… Alright. Thanks. Good night.” He hung up.

            “Who was that?” Marinette asked, leaning on her elbow.

            “My father’s assistant Nathalie. She was checking in before she went home and got spooked because I was gone. Mainly she just wanted to be sure I would be fine for my shoot tomorrow.”

            “You have a shoot tomorrow? Are you sure you don’t need to go home and rest?”

            “I’m resting here!” he argued. “Besides, it’s not until after school, anyway.”

            “And I, um…” She blushed harder. She didn’t really know what to say.

            After the hard part of their conversation that night, she had invited him into her room. It was one of the many moments that made her grateful she had finally taken down all of Adrien’s posters the year before. They had been watching Howl’s Moving Castle—apparently Studio Ghibli was a mutual interest—on her laptop, laying in her bed, and must have fallen asleep.

            “What time is it?” she asked.

            He glanced at his phone again. “Eleven-thirty.”

            Marinette groaned. “I never finished my homework,” she complained.

            Adrien just shook his head. “So irresponsible, my lady,” he scolded her. “I have to say, I expected better from you.”

            “Hey!” she exclaimed, and then caught herself. Now was no a time for yelling. It was probably best if her parents _didn’t_ feel the need to check in on her tonight. “I was working on it when you interrupted me!” she hissed.

            “Excuses, excuses,” he teased. “What do you have left?”

            “Calculus and Chinese.” She made a face.

            “What, you don’t like calculus?”

            “What, do you?”

            “I mean…”

            Marinette stared at him. “Are you telling me you actual _enjoy_ that hell-math?”

            He laughed. “Hell-math? It’s not that bad, Marinette. Come on. I’ll help you.”

            She moaned. “But I’m tired,” she whined.

            As much as he would have preferred to stay in bed as well, the thought of helping her with her homework felt like such a happy, normal couple thing to do that he really didn’t want to miss out on it. Not to mention, lying next to her was making him think things he wasn’t ready to act on just yet. It would be better to go back to bed when he was tired enough to actually fall asleep.

            He dragged himself up, then took Marinette’s hands and tried to pull her out of the bed. She wasn’t budging.

            “Come on, babe,” he urged. “The sooner we start, the sooner it can be over and we can go back to sleep.”

            She mumbled something unintelligible.

            He sighed.

            “Do you want me to go make coffee?” he asked.

            Marinette mumbled something else before finally crawling out of the covers. Adrien tried not to laugh, but one of her pigtails had come out entirely and she was glaring at him like he had run over some small, defenseless animal.

            “Come here,” he chuckled, stepping closer to her. “You can’t just leave your hair halfway done.” He pulled out the other elastic, running his fingers through her dyed strands in an effort to make it lay flat. He was surprised by how soft it was.

            Marinette only stared at him as he subconsciously fingered a lock of her hair, running his thumb back and forth over it with a distracted look on his face. Her face was on fire, but she didn’t want to move for fear of shaking him out of whatever he was doing and him pulling away. She just watched him with wide eyes, enjoying the fluttery feeling that filled her.

            This was good.

            Adrien caught himself, pulling his hand back suddenly.

            “Sorry,” he mumbled, looking down. “I’ll go work on that coffee.” He turned to leave.

            She reached out and stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t drink coffee,” she told him. “And if you do, you won’t be able to fall back asleep later. Plus, I don’t want my parents seeing you in the kitchen. I’ll go fix something.”

            He smiled and nodded, stepping out of the way so she could get around him and climb down.

            When she came back into the room a few minutes later, Adrien was leaning against the ladder, thoughtfully examining the Chat Noir doll he had found on Marinette’s bed. He smiled at her, holding it up.

            “So I take it this isn’t your first night sleeping with Chat Noir, huh?” he teased.

            She blushed, glaring at him as she gently set the two mugs of hot chocolate on her desk.

            “I thought you were too old to be playing with dolls,” she quipped. “Now make yourself useful and help me be less stupid.”

            He laughed and took the seat next to her. “You aren’t stupid,” he assured her. “You just haven’t had the right tutor. I like the orange, by the way.”

            “The power of blorange,” she muttered, smiling.

            “Huh?”

            “Nevermind.”

            She had to admit, homework was a lot less miserable with the help of somebody who actually understood it. And it didn’t hurt that that somebody was Adrien Agreste, her favorite classmate and her favorite superhero.

            They finished at almost three a.m., by which time Adrien had sufficiently tired himself out enough to go back to bed without any worries.

            They climbed back up into the bed, and Marinette lay on her side, staring at him.

            “Get some rest, Princess,” he whispered, running his thumb over her cheek. “You’ve worked hard.” He planted a kiss on her forehead, and then rolled to face the wall, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth that filled him. He was glad it was her.

            Marinette stared at the back of his head. Sometimes she thought she knew it better than she did his face, from dutifully watching it every school day. Earlier, he had said that maybe this wasn’t what they had wanted, but he was wrong. It would be a lie for her to say she hadn’t fantasized about Adrien being Chat Noir, but she had never let herself dwell on the possibility. It felt unfair to Chat to cast him as her crush, or to expect more from him than he could reasonably live up to. But as it turned out, Adrien was far more than she had expected: in addition to being smart, kind, sensitive, and handsome, he was romantic, an absolute goofball, and a faithful friend. He had sacrificed himself for her more times than she could count on one hand, and he had stuck by her even after finding out who she really was, even after she had responded so selfishly to his reveal. If it hadn’t been for him coming to find her, she would be lying alone right now, anxious and miserable.

            As is, confidence and affection flowed through her like warm water, and she scooted closer to Adrien, laying an arm over his side and planting a small kiss on the back of his neck. Smiling against his shirt, she could feel his even breathing. The poor thing must have been exhausted. Truth be told, she was pretty tired herself. She fell asleep to the scent of his detergent and the rhythm of his heartbeat.


End file.
